


Know When To Fold 'Em

by scarlettraven9, sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Angst, BDSM, Established Relationship, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2010-09-14
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettraven9/pseuds/scarlettraven9, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam plays a game Dean's life and both brothers discover truths and wants about themselves they both thought long gone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This story is complete and we'll post a new chapter every few days.

  
  
Sam walked nervously towards the warehouse where he was to play Patrick. It was all a rouse, so that Bobby and Dean had time to perform the reversal spell. That and he had to get some of Patrick's DNA. It was a tall order, considering Patrick was sharp and a damn good poker player.  
  
Sam worried that he wouldn't be able to hold his own against Patrick but really they had no other choice. He had to take the chance, it was the only one they had.  
  
 **They had.** The past few weeks Sam had been thrilled that he and Dean had become closer again. In fact he had hoped to eventually find a way back into his brother's arms. He missed the security he felt there, the acceptance. Hell had ripped that all away and now he felt close to regaining part of what he had lost. He couldn't lose it now, he just couldn't.  
  
Sam took a deep calming breath as he approached the warehouse doors and shook the tension out of his shoulders like he would for a sparring match which was fitting because this felt like a sparring match—of the minds. Sam had shown up a bit early in hopes of watching and learning a bit about his opponent.  
  
Dean and Bobby had given him as much information as they could but it was always better to catch a player in action to learn his habits. Sam was no rookie when it came to poker and he just hoped that he could fool Patrick on that end. It would be his only ace up his sleeve.  
  
He opened the warehouse doors and immediately heard voices. One was definitely Patrick’s and the other seemed to belong to an older person. There was a shake to it and an uncertainty. The possibility that Sam might witness someone lose their life almost made him tuck tail and run. But he had to suck it up and be strong in order to win, he couldn't let his feelings for the innocents in the world interfere this time.  
  
As he got closer he could tell that they were in the middle of a hand. The man betting was already old and trying to get back some years like Cliff the man they had meet a few days ago. It made sense really, the way Patrick was able to play the elderly. What did they have to lose and the gain...  
  
Sam stopped behind the man and was surprised that no one acknowledged him. Both the elderly man and Patrick were totally wrapped up in the hand.  
  
The older man definitely didn't have years to lose. If he lost his hand then he would die and that fact made Sam very sad and hopeful that the man might have Cliff's luck, though it was doubtful. Sam could see the twinkle in Patrick's eyes; the elder man had a decent hand. Two nines, they could easily be beat, it was not looking good.  
  
The elderly man looked nervously at his hand and then said, "Bet."  
  
Sam held his breath and waited to see how this played out.  
  
Patrick smiled and cleared his throat. “I sense you’ve got me by the jewels on this one, Ash,” Patrick sighed. "I fold."  
  
Sam let out a relieved breath and looked at Patrick who was now smiling at him.  
  
Patrick laid down his cards as Ash pulled the chips towards him. Watching Sam, Patrick spoke. “What, you’re up thirteen years there Ash? What do you say we call it a day?”  
  
Ash smiled. "Thanks Patrick."  
  
Patrick gave Sam his full attention. “Ash here is gonna live to see his granddaughter’s bat mitzvah, isn’t that right Ash?”  
  
Ash began to get out of his chair. "Thanks again, Patrick."  
  
“Shalom my friend, shalom,” Patrick replied as the older man left.  
  
“That was nice of you,” Sam said, shifting nervously. He had hoped for more time watching his opponent.  
  
Patrick shrugged. “I’m a nice guy. What can I do you for?”  
  
Moving forward, Sam took a seat. "Deal."  
  
Sam thought he was playing pretty well against Patrick, he was at least holding his own. The witch had tried to distract him with small talk and Sam wasn't shocked when the talk turned a little more personal.  
  
Patrick smirked. “I like you, Sam. I do. You’re smart, and your heart is clearly in the right place. I can tell a lot about a guy by looking.”  
  
Sam watched as Patrick took the toothpick out of his mouth and sat it down. He had decided if he could snag the toothpick it would have all the DNA that they needed for the spell, the trick would be to take it. He had worked out with Lia, Patrick's girl, she would provide a distraction when the moment was right.  
  
Trying to keep up with the toothpick without giving away his plans, he indulged Patrick in his psycho babble.  
  
Sam shrugged and spoke. “You mean you’re psychic?”  
  
Patrick shook his head. "No, that would be cheating. I’m talking about good, old-fashioned intuition.”  
  
Sam huffed, he'd had enough of Patrick's mind games. “Right. Let’s just play.”  
  
“We are playing.” Patrick smiled, taking a drink.  
  
Sam eyed the glass as he put it down. The glass could work…  
  
Patrick took a drink and Sam eyed the glass as he put it down. The glass could work if he can't grab the toothpick.  
  
Sam’s attention was pulled from the glass by Patrick's next question. “Does your big brother know you’re here?”  
  
Trying his best to ignore Patrick's mind games Sam picked up some chips. “Bet five.” He tossed them in.  
  
“Didn’t think so,” Patrick smiled. “I raise.”  
  
Sam looked at his hand, trying to keep his head as he struggled to block out Patrick's comments. He moved more chips in the pot.  
  
Patrick gave him a hard stare and spoke. “Here you are, right? Trying to clean up their mess. And they still wanna sit you at the kiddie table. You’re not the little brother anymore, Sam.”  
  
Sam continued to try and block out Patrick's taunts. The witch definitely knew which buttons to push and it was hard to ignore him as he smirked and played with his chips waiting for Sam to answer.  
  
Patrick stopped playing with the chips and spoke again. “Then again, maybe you are. You’re in over your head here, Sam. I mean, you can keep making these moves. You know – playing it cautious. Playing in percentages. But I’m still gonna kick your ass into the nursing home.”  
  
Sam broke, not able to keep the anger at bay anymore. “Does this armchair psychology usually work for you?”  
  
He winced as Patrick laughed and replied. “You tell me. You’re the one who’s losing.”  
  
It was a big relief when Lia walked in. Sam wasn't sure how much longer he could have stalled playing cautiously against Patrick. Sam watched as Patrick stopped shuffling when his lady love appeared.  
  
Patrick smiled at her and put the toothpick down. It was the moment that Sam was waiting for and he prayed that Patrick would fall for their little plan.  
  
“Little break?” Patrick asked, winking at Sam.  
  
Sam nodded tightly and slowly moved to get out of the chair as the pair in front of him embraced. He tried to give them privacy while moving swiftly to snag the toothpick.  
  
It is with much relief that he made it outside with the toothpick and found Dean.  
  
Dean moved quickly toward him. “How’s it going in there?”  
  
Sam huffed, "How do you think it's going? What about you, you have everything you need?”  
  
Dean sighed. “We still need a little he-witch DNA.”  
  
Sam had hoped that Dean and Bobby had had time to get back up DNA from Patrick's apartment. The toothpick had to work.  
  
He held up a toothpick. “He was chewing it. Hurry up Dean. Please.”  
  
Dean gave him a concerned look. “Alright. Just keep him busy. And Sammy? Don’t lose.”  
  
Sam nodded tightly and moved back inside.  
  
It was very hard to return to that table and face Patrick again. The witch was the best player he'd ever seen and in time he would have Sam beat and Sam knew it.  
  
Sitting down across from Patrick, Sam tried to school his face and erase all his worry.  
  
Patrick looked at Sam. “Question.” He pulled a toothpick out his jacket. “Is this what you meant to give your big brother?”  
  
Sam swallowed hard but didn't reply, not sure of what to say.  
  
“The one you gave him never passed my lips. Won’t do a scrap of good.” He tossed the toothpick at Sam. “I don’t like cheating, Sam.”  
  
Sam felt his stomach clinch up in fear. He'd been busted and Dean was domed. He saw the anger in Patrick's eyes and knew that the powerful witch could easily kill him. Maybe that was for the best if he couldn’t cure Dean. Patrick reached his hand out and Sam instantly lost his breath as an invisible hand tightened around his throat.  
  
He saw stars dancing in his vision but in his fog, he still heard voices.  
  
Lia was pleading for him. “Stop it! Patrick! Let him go!”  
  
The grasp loosened and he heard Patrick's response. “He tried to kill us!”  
  
Taking a deep breath he heard Lia pleading her case. “I did it! I gave him the spell.”  
  
With those words Patrick stopped his assault on Sam. “What?” He stood up and took her face in his hands. “Why – why would you do that?”  
  
Sam greedily sucked in air as Lia replied to Patrick. “You know why,” she said, fingering her locket again. “You know.” Patrick looked at the locket for a second, then sat down.  
  
Sam barely had his breath under control when Patrick angrily barked at him. “Keep playing.” He sighed and hoped that this once he could be a poker ace.  
  
Determined to win, Sam put down some chips.  
  
“Well look at you! The percentage player betting the farm,” Patrick says. “Awful transparent of you, Sam. I mean, if I had a monster hand like you have – I’d trap you. But you get yourself so excited, you bet yourself right out of a big pot.”  
  
Sam tried to keep his face blank and didn’t reply.  
  
Patrick set down his cards. “I fold. Set of ladies, I’m guessing.”  
  
Sam ignored him and pulled in his chips and showed his cards. Two Fives. He had bluffed the witch and it felt good. Scary but good.  
  
“Nice bluff,” Patrick said. “If we had time, I could make a real player out of you.”  
  
Sam frowned at that comment. "I've got time."  
  
Patrick smiled. “Maybe. But I can’t say the same for Dean. Your brother’s gonna be dead soon. And when I say soon, I mean minutes.”  
  
Sam panicked. It couldn’t be true. Not Dean, not now.  
  
Sam panicked. It couldn’t be true. Not Dean, not now. He started to get up and Patrick raised a hand, stopping him by force. “The game’s not over till I say it is. Blinds.”  
  
Patrick threw out two cards, and Sam did the same, quickly. “So. When it’s about your brother, you get so emotional your brain just flies right out the window,” Patrick said. “Good to know.”  
  
“Go to Hell,” Sam snapped.  
  
"Feisty one are we? But I get it, your brother and your life is on the line. I like you Sam I really do, so much so I did some checking. I knew that you had to be hunters so I did a little digging, Sam and Dean as in Winchester?" Patrick paused and stared at Sam.  
  
"I'll answer all your questions after the game, Dean doesn't have time for me to wait playing fifty questions with you." Sam replied angrily.  
  
"Tsk, Tsk, but the answer to that question could save Dean. If you are Sam Winchester, I'm willing to fold my cards and let you win back Dean's years, for a small price." Patrick was smirking now.  
  
"Fine, I'm Sam Winchester, but what does that have to do with this poker game and what kind of deal are you talking about because I won't let Lucifer win." Sam replied thickly trying to keep his emotions at bay.  
  
"I can fold Sam, just like I did for Ash and you can win the years. I'm not working for Lucifer, you should know that I'm all about what I can do for me. I live a lavish lifestyle and while the poker games pay for some of it, I do trade in illegal or hard to get goods to make a very good living. You my friend, with your demon blood are very much a wanted commodity in the witch market. Your blood could super charge spells and do so much more. So the deal I'm prepared to make to you... let me have you for one month. I get to use you in anyway I see fit and at the end of it all you will be set free. In the meantime, Dean will be healthy and alive. If you welsh on the deal well, then I can't guarantee Dean's health. Do you understand?"  
  
Sam felt his head spinning, this was all happening so fast. He wanted to think about it but he knew he didn't have the luxury of time. Dean's life was in the balance.  
  
"I will accept but, I refuse to do harm to others." Sam tried to keep his voice from quivering, it was very frightening to think about letting another person own him.  
  
"Done Sam, no worries on that. I need you for deals and maybe as a wing man in the bars but I will not make you directly responsible for some one's death. Shake on it and your brother will be back to himself." Patrick held out a hand and Sam took it feeling it almost pulling the heat from his body.  
  
Once Patrick released his hand he smiled. "A good deal Sam, I tell ya and not a moment to soon. Your brother was definitely on death's doors."  
  
Sam swallowed hard. This was insane but as long as Dean was okay he could live with it. He looked at Lia, who gave him a sympathetic look.  
  
Patrick then gave Lia his attention and motioned at Sam to leave. "Sam wait for me at the car. I need to talk to Lia."  
  


[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v299/Bayre/?action=view%C2%A4t=foldemicon.jpg)

Dean hopped to the car, grin firmly placed on his face. Gosh it felt good to be his old self again, scratch that his younger self. Just moments earlier he was on death's door with a failing heart and now things were back to normal. It made him want to celebrate with a big fat burger.

But first things first, he needed to check on Sam to see that everything was okay on his end.

After joining Bobby in the van, he quickly hit speed dial on his cell and waited for Sam to pick up.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam sounded nervous and upset.

"Yeah, back to normal dude. So you won huh?" Dean couldn't help but scratch his head at that question.

"I did win the final hand of poker. So are you sure you're okay?" Sam's voice still held a note of concern.

Dean shook his head, his little brother had out played a pro. "I'm better than good Sammy. How about we meet you at the motel room and celebrate?"

Sam chuckled. "Sure man, sounds like a plan. We could get some pizza."

Dean lit up at the mention of food. "Yeah, sounds really good. Pick up some beer would ya?"

"You got it Dean. And ... uh... I'm glad you're okay." Sam replied quietly.

"I'll be even better when you get to the room with the beer! See ya soon." Dean could tell this whole thing had taken a toll on his brother by the kid’s tone. It would do them all good to have a night to eat, drink and be merry.

"Yeah, see ya soon." Sam's voice was still quiet and a bit unsettled when he ended the call.

Dean felt his stomach clinch a bit uneasily but he let it go and chalked his nervousness up to the whole messed up night.

"Sam win?" Bobby's voice brought Dean out of his thoughts of Sam.

"Yeah, believe it or not, he beat the man-witch. He's grabbing beer and meeting us at the motel. We need to order pizza when we get in." Dean wasn't as hungry as before and knew he wouldn't feel better until he reunited with his geeky brother.

"Huh, imagine that. Well, let's head back. I'm starving." Bobby grumbled.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan." Dean replied trying to keep the worry from his voice.

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v299/Bayre/?action=view%C2%A4t=foldemicon.jpg)

Sam had just made it outside the warehouse when his phone rang. It had been really good to hear Dean's voice and it had taken away any lingering concern he had for his brother. Dean was back to normal, so it made everything that had happened tonight worth it. Lying to Dean had been the worst part, but he really couldn’t see any other way. Sam needed some time to escape with Patrick before Dean got wise.

Focusing on what needed to be done, Sam headed over to the Impala. He opened the trunk and took out a duffel that contained emergency clothes. They always kept extra clothes in the car in case they had to flee a job. Once he had his clothes, Sam placed his cell phone and his set of keys in the trunk and shut it.

It was hard walking away from the Impala. It hadn't been that long ago since he had done this only with Dean's blessings. The separation had been hell and he had a feeling that this time wouldn't be much different. But it had to be done.

Taking a calming breath, he forced himself to move away from the Impala, his home. He slowly moved towards the small two-seater that Patrick had stolen the other day. He was puzzling over how the three of them were going fit in it when Patrick flung the back doors to the warehouse open. His face was red and blotchy. It looked like he had been crying but his features were set in a frown.

"So Sam, it's just you and me on this trip." Patrick's voice was stern.

"Okay, uh I grabbed extra clothes out of the Impala and I left my cell and keys in the trunk for Dean to find." Sam replied unsure of what to say.

"Alright then, we'll hit the hotel and I'll grab me some clothes and then we'll leave this town. Get in." Patrick replied as he opened the driver's side door.

Sam quickly obeyed and stuffed his belongings in the floor board of the car. It was a tight fit but he was able to do it. Just as he was buckling his seat belt, Patrick spoke again.

"So do I have to worry about that brother of yours following us?" Patrick quirked an eyebrow at Sam as he started the car.

"Uh not right away. I told him that I won the game and I'd grab some beer and meet him at the motel. So we have time to get your stuff before we head out. With my cell in the car, he won't be able to track me." Sam tried to speak calmly, keeping the worry from his voice.

"Good thinking, Sam. So, you'll have to help me plan the route to keep your brother off our trail, can't have him finding us before our month together is out, now can we?" Patrick's voice was light but his expression was anything but.

Sam swallowed hard. His new companion was very powerful and the thought of Dean finding them scared him. "Yeah, I'll help Patrick."

Patrick nodded. "Good boy, Sam. That's what I like to hear. Keep up this attitude and we'll get a long just fine, we will."

The car slowed as they pulled up to the hotel Patrick was staying in. The witch turned the car off and faced Sam.

"Sam, me boy, I have a big favor to ask. Lia isn't part of the plan anymore. She...." Patrick paused and took a deep breath. "Well let's just say that you're my partner in crime now. I would like it very much if you could go upstairs and pack for me? I don't think I could take looking at her stuff...." Patrick’s voice trailed off and he looked away.

Sam guessed that Lia had decided to end it all. He couldn't blame her, a life like that had to be hard. Sam could see the loss was doing a number on Patrick and as much as he hated the man for what he had done to Dean, he still felt pity in his heart at the witch's loss.

"I can do that. Do you want anything besides your clothes? Pictures, or anything like that?" Sam asked softly.

Patrick turned, giving Sam a sad smile. "My clothes and she did have a box that she kept our keepsakes in. It should be on top of the dresser in a black wooden ornate box. If you could grab that too? As long as I have the box and some clothes, I'll be good."

Sam nodded and moved to get out of the car.

"Sam, just so you know. I have a month with you. That is thirty one days, and if you can't fulfill that time with me, then Dean goes back to the old folk’s home. You understand that laddy, don'tcha?" Patrick's eyes were blazing a hole in him.

"I do understand." Sam wiped at his face nervously. "So, I'll hurry, we need to hit the road."

"Good boy." Patrick replied this time with a smile.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
  
  
Dean stopped pacing and stood staring out the window. Something was wrong. He had known there was something wrong when Sam called and he’d ignored his gut feeling. Now he was sure. The sun was coming up and it’d been late evening when Sam had called from the warehouse he was meeting Patrick in.  
  
Sam hadn’t taken off, Dean was quite sure of that. He hadn’t hooked up with some chick, Dean was sure of that too. Convincing Bobby of the first fact was simple, explaining the second was damn near impossible. It wasn’t like Dean could fill Bobby in on all the facts that lead him to that conclusion. Fortunately, Bobby was just as worried about the kid as Dean and didn’t need much convincing.  
  
Fusing to Dean like some sort of weird glue was what Sam had done since he and Sam came back together. Had Dean fussed even a little when Sam suggested they go their separate ways for a while he was pretty sure Sam would have caved in and stayed. At least that was Dean’s story and he was sticking to it.  
  
The signs had been there…maybe…Dean wanted them to be there. Going to Hell had ruined so much of his relationship with his brother, parts of which Dean was only now working up the courage to retrieve. It couldn’t be his imagination, how Sam followed his lead, let Dean shorten the leash, how Sam watched him when he thought Dean wasn’t looking. The expressions on Sam’s face were a callback to days before Hellhounds came for Dean.  
  
No, Sam hadn’t hooked up with some random girl. Sam had been too busy lately trying to get Dean’s attention to notice if a girl was interested in him. Dean had been too busy trying to convince himself Sam had moved beyond the tiny start of a relationship they’d had before Dean…before. Of course, Dean hadn’t bothered to admit this to himself until Sam vanished out from under his nose and he was forced to think about it.  
  
Which brought Dean back to something had happened.  
  
He tried Sam’s phone again. Voice mail. Wonderful.  
  
Bobby pushed through the door, “I paid for another two nights.” He scratched at the back of his neck and looked everywhere but at Dean.  
  
“He should have been back hours ago, Bobby. He doesn’t do that crap anymore. No sneaking off. Been telling me every move he’s making. Something is wrong.”  
  
“You tryin’ to convince you or me?”  
  
Glaring straight into Bobby’s eyes, Dean straightened and squared off his shoulders. “Something is wrong. Despite everything I still know Sam better than anyone and I still know when he’s in trouble.” There, he’d said it, out loud and everything. Sam was his life and despite some rough patches between them Dean still knew. He wasn’t ready to give up on his life so quickly. Dean knew what he wanted and he intended to get it back and keep it.  
  
Bobby nodded. He jerked his chin toward the door. “Let’s go find the kid. You’re both pretty sad and annoying when you’re separated.”  
  
Huh…maybe Bobby had more ideas than Dean gave him credit for.  
  
The drive from the motel to the warehouse was short, quiet, tense and uneventful. The second Dean saw the Impala he knew beyond a doubt, Sam had been in trouble when he’d called and was covering that fact up. Some misguided need to protect Dean no doubt. Stupid kid, Dean was the only one who was permitted to do that.  
  
Out of Bobby’s van before it was completely stopped, Dean scoured the front then back seat. Next he sprinted to the trunk, slid the key in the lock and popped it open.  
  
Sam’s phone and car keys.  
  
If Sam had left a huge, neon sign stating in _dire trouble, need help_ , he couldn’t have been more obvious than leaving the car, phone and keys as he had.  
  
They needed a plan. As much as Dean loved Bobby and appreciated his help he had the nagging feeling he needed to be alone on this. Convincing Bobby to go home and start digging up everything on the man-witch as possible was surprisingly easier than Dean thought it might be. He was seriously starting to think maybe he just didn’t give Bobby enough credit when it came to knowing him.  
  
After scouring the area, Dean returned to his motel. He was fairly sure Patrick had left the area and his gut was telling him Patrick had more than a little bit to do with Sam vanishing.  
  
Tossing and turning that night Dean dreamt of he and Sam. When he jerked awake deep into the night, he swore he’d felt Sam’s hands and mouth all over him and the way Sam opened to him, allowing him deep inside his brother’s heated body. He had one monster of a hard-on and barely stumbled to the bathroom in time to find relief.  
  
He missed his brother so much it hurt. It hurt worse than when he and Sam had voluntarily separated, and that had been so painful there were times Dean didn’t know how he’d catch his next breath.  
  
Dean wanted his brother back. He had no idea how to find him, but find Sam he would, no matter how long it took.  
  
  
-0-  
  
  
Sam quietly exited the elevator a few steps behind Patrick. He stood and waited for Patrick to unlock the door to their suite. A suite, he and Dean almost never stayed anywhere this nice. He had to admit if he was a prisoner, this wasn’t a horrible prison. Patrick crossed the room to the bar and poured two glasses of wine, handing one off to Sam.  
  
“Hungry? Shall we order in?” Patrick smiled at him.  
  
Sam nodded and settled in a chair while Patrick ordered a late dinner. He never asked Sam what he’d like to eat, simply how he’d like it prepared. A short time later their meal arrived and Sam was beckoned to the table. Without comment he sat opposite Patrick and ate. The food was always good, the accommodations always nice. Sam wasn’t mistreated or harmed or even mildly threatened and if he talked back Patrick was quite the chatterbox, and happy to spend hours engaging in conversation.  
  
“You did very well tonight, Sammy.”  
  
Fork stopping midway to his mouth, Sam’s gaze popped up at Patrick. “Don’t call me that.” He softened his voice at once. “Please don’t. My brother…Dean is the only one…”  
  
“I’m sorry, Sam. I understand. It won’t happen again.” Patrick smiled at him and swirled wine around the inside of his glass. “You and big brother are very close.”  
  
Sam shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, it’s just the two of us, so…yeah.”  
  
A cell phone, Patrick’s cell phone, was tossed across the table. Sam barely caught it before it dropped he was so surprised by the action. “It’s been nearly a week and you’ve behaved very well. You deserve a reward.” Patrick leaned back in his chair, smile widening.  
  
Sam stared down at the phone in his hand.  
  
“Call anyone you’d like. Five minutes this time, I think. If you earn it, maybe you’ll be permitted to talk longer the next time.”  
  
“I can call Dean?”  
  
“Anyone at all.”  
  
Sam opened the phone, but didn’t dial. He looked back up at Patrick. “What can I tell him?”  
  
“Anything you’d like,” Patrick held up one finger, “Except where you are, what city.”  
  
“I can explain?” This had to be some sort of trap.  
  
“If you’d like. Make big brother feel better knowing you’re well cared for in his absence. He cares for you very well doesn’t he?”  
  
Patrick’s legs stretched under the table, brushing against Sam’s. He drew his own feet under the chair and pulled away at once, ignoring Patrick’s last question. A few deep breaths and Sam dialed. Dean answered on the second ring.  
  
“Dean, it’s me.”  
  
 _“Sammy. Where are you? Are you alright? What’s going on?”_  
  
“I’m fine. I’m with Patrick, he hasn’t hurt me.”  
  
 _“Sam,”_ Dean said the word slowly, drew it out, _“Are you alright?”_  
  
“I’m not hurt.” Sam closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see Patrick watching the exchange. On the other end Dean swallowed and grumbled. Sam could perfectly picture his expression, a mixture of worry and guilt and understanding. Sam wasn’t fine, but he wasn’t in danger of physical harm either. Dean mumbled something about not hurt and being alright were two entirely different things. “I’m in a hotel. It’s nice, room service and an elevator.”  
  
 _“Are you—?”_  
  
“I have my own room.”  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
Patrick tapped his watch and held up three fingers. Sam bit down on his lip and nodded.  
  
“I only have a few minutes, it’s nearly midnight here. Patrick said I could call you. He says my blood is valuable to witches, for spells. Just a drop or two, that’s it. In exchange for letting you live I had to promise him a month. After that he’ll call you to come get me. He promised he won’t hurt me and he hasn’t.”  
  
 _“You shouldn’t have agreed to that, Sammy.”_  
  
“I couldn’t live without…I can’t do that again.” He bit his lip harder trying to stifle the soft sob wanting out, but his voice still came out shaky and breathless. “I can’t.”  
  
Sam heard Dean nod, sigh and move around, probably sitting down. _“I get it.”_  
  
“I’ll call you when I can. Dean I—”  
  
“Me too, kid.”  
  
Whatever else Dean might have been about to say Sam didn’t hear. Patrick had stood and moved to Sam’s side, took the phone and closed it. Running one hand over Sam’s hair, he spoke in a low, soft voice. “Very good. You’re so young, so handsome.”  
  
Sam tipped his head to the side, away from Patrick’s hand. “That wasn’t part of the deal,” he said quietly.  
  
“No, Sam it wasn’t. But you do like men as well as women, don’t you?”  
  
Shrugging Sam kept his gaze firmly on the tabletop. “That’s not illegal.”  
  
Patrick let his fingertips brush along Sam’s neck and across his shoulders before pulling his hand away. “It’s not. But, you’re a very nice looking young man. You can’t blame a guy for trying, now can you?”  
  
“No. I’m tired. May I go to bed now? Besides you gave me something I don’t think I should be passing around.”  
  
Patrick laughed and snapped his fingers. “All cleared up now.” He brushed two fingers over Sam’s hair again then turned and walked back to his side of the table. “Of course you may go to bed. Sleep as long as you’d like tomorrow.”  
  
Standing, Sam carefully set the wine glass down and pushed the chair in. He offered Patrick a curt nod, but didn’t meet his eyes before he turned and headed toward his bedroom.  
  
“You like it, don’t you?” Patrick asked, voice low and steady.  
  
Sam turned and looked at Patrick, waiting patiently for whatever else the man had to say. When he didn’t continue Sam raised one hand, palm up and let it drop to hit his leg. “Like what?”  
  
Patrick smiled, it was soft and warm. “The control, being controlled. Does Dean do that for you? Take charge of you? Big brother more than just a brother?”  
  
Pulling his lower lip in, Sam chewed on it for a few seconds. He had no answer, none he wanted to share with Patrick. “I can go now?” He motioned to the door to his room.  
  
Extending one arm, Patrick waved Sam away. He raised his wine glass, “Good night, Sam.”  
  
Sam slipped through the door to his room and eased the door closed behind him, leaning back against it and closing his eyes for a minute. It was unnerving the way the witch saw right through him. The honest fact was Patrick had hit a few nails right on the head. Jess knew about the control, she’d understood right from the beginning, saw through Sam just like Patrick did. He hadn’t had to ask for it. He didn’t know how to ask Dean or if Dean wouldn’t even be repulsed and disgusted with him.  
  
He walked into the small bathroom and got ready for bed. Ten minutes later he was stretched out in the big bed. Sighing he rolled his head to the side, but there wasn’t another body in the bed, or another bed, just a few feet of empty space between his bed and the wall. If he closed his eyes he could imagine the feel of Dean’s hands roaming his body. How he slipped easily into Sam sending electric shocks of pleasure rolling through him.  
  
Hand wandering down and under his boxers, Sam stroked himself, sighing. As he neared climax he grabbed the pillow and shoved it over his face not wanting Patrick to hear his soft moans and rapid breaths. Ever since he was sixteen he’d been imagining Dean’s deep, mellow voice giving him permission to come, no matter who he was with. Even with Jess, when she spanked or bound him, made him kneel at her feet and jack off, Sam always heard Dean in his head telling him it was time to come. Even when Dean wasn’t there he had control over Sam.  
  
Grabbing his shaft and pulling up hard, twisting at the same time, Sam bit the pillow and rumbled into it when Dean’s voice in his head offered him release. It was Dean’s name Sam panted out.  
  
Ten minutes later he’d come back to himself, got his breathing to steady out and taken a quick shower. Since he and Dean had joined back up Sam had tried to voice what he wanted. There’d been a time he could have asked, talked to Dean about it. Sam knew on some level Dean knew, had always known what Sam was looking for just as on that same level Sam knew what Dean wanted, or at least had wanted. The simple fact was a small, but noisy, part of Sam was afraid of Dean’s rejection. Maybe it was something Dean didn’t want anymore, or wasn’t interested in from Sam.  
  
Patrick had been completely correct, Sam did like the control. It gave him comfort. Sam missed his brother. Three more weeks and Patrick would let him go. Sam rolled to his side and tried to sleep. He could go to Patrick, find distraction with him for a few hours. It would feel good to be in someone’s arms for a bit, protected, allowed the release of having it all decided for him. Patrick’s arms weren’t Dean’s arms, though. What Sam really wanted was to be in the circle of his brother’s arms, pressed close to his chest, safe, secure and cared for in a way no one else ever did or could.  
  
  
-0-  
  
  
Dean heard the phone click dead and stared at it for a moment. He had been totally surprised that Sam was allowed to call him but at the same time it made sense. Patrick liked to play games, to taunt his opponent so teasing Dean with a call from Sam probably gave the con-man a thrill.  
  
Sighing he tried to gather his thoughts. Dean would try to trace the call later, but he knew in his heart of hearts that Patrick was too smart to be done in by a phone trace.  
  
No, tracing the phone would do him no good, but using the information that Sam gave him would.  
  
Wiping at his face in frustration Dean then lifted his phone and hit speed dial.  
  
After a few rings he finally got an answer. “'lo, this better be good boy.”  
  
Dean smiled at Bobby's tired threat. “Sam called.”  
  
“Crap, is the kid okay?” The voice on the other end was much clearer this time.  
  
“Yeah, he sounded okay. He told me that Patrick hadn't hurt him, he was just out selling the kid’s blood. Sam said something about witches were buying a couple of drops of his blood for spells. Does that make any sense to you?” Dean had been puzzled about that comment but when Sam had said it he was too preoccupied with finding out if the kid was okay to ask any more questions about it.  
  
“Makes a lot of sense. That man-witch as you call him, likes to live a life of luxury. Cons will get you only so far in life, but dealing in supernatural commodities will make you the big bucks. Hell, Bella lived high off the horse with her dealings.” Bobby replied in a huff.  
  
“Yeah, don't remind me of the bitch. So I get you can make money off of supernatural crap, but Sam's blood? How can that help them?” Dean swallowed hard, it was not pleasant talking about Sam as something to be owned or sold to someone else.  
  
“Well, I know that a drop of regular old demon blood can give a spell a major power boost and so I would guess that maybe that's the case with Sam's blood. The blood itself won't do much but added to a spell or potion, it could make for something pretty powerful. I'm sure that's the idea that Patrick is selling.”  
  
“Yeah, well and since he is a con-man all he has to do is make them believe it.”  
  
“Yep, and then if it doesn't work, he's out of town before anyone is the wiser is my bet. But to be honest Dean, I bet Sam's blood does work and that this witch is making a tidy little sum of money off of it. But on the bright side, it will be a way to track them.”  
  
Dean's heart jumped at the last statement. “How Bobby?”  
  
“Well boy, I know of some dealers myself. We could get the word out that we are wanting to buy some human mixed demon blood and see if we get any bites. But in the mean time you got any other leads?”  
  
“Yeah, they're in the same time zone that we're in and Sam mentioned that they were staying at really nice hotels with room service. So my guess they're in a bigger city.” Dean had wished he had more information to give Bobby but at least it was a start.  
  
“Not a lot to go on but at least we're not grasping at straws now.”  
  
Dean nodded and realized that the older hunter couldn't see him. “Yeah, and we know Sam's okay. I was so afraid he might have taken years from  
the kid or...”  
  
“Me too kid, me too. Well, I'm gonna finish sleeping and I promise to get the word out in the morning about needing to buy some special blood.  
Hopefully we'll have a bite soon.”  
  
“Hope so. Thanks Bobby.”  
  
“Sure, get some sleep kid.”  
  
Dean let out a deep breath. Sleep, yeah that wasn't gonna happen, not with his head spinning. At least they had some clues now and he knew Sam was okay. That would have to be enough for now.  



End file.
